The Russian Punk and the Broken Butterfly
by Le Blanc Tulipe
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky is an arrogant, yet talented, skater adored by the world. Anastasia Petrov used to be his rink-mate, but now follows a new path in life. When they meet again, they are both in very different places than they were as kids.
1. Chapter 1 – Fire and Ice

**Hello! I own nothing but my OC. Hope you enjoy! :)**

Yuri Plisetsky sat in the kiss and cry with two of his coaches Yakov Feltsman and Lilia Baranovskaya who sat on either side of him. The three of them stared up at the screens that hung over the rink that would soon announce Yuri's marks for his Grand Prix Final Free Skate.

"Your form could've been better in your jumps," Lilia broke the silence. "And your free leg was looking sloppy once again. I tell you over and over again-"

"Lilia!" Yakov gruffly shot at his ex-wife. There was no sense in lecturing Yuri at this point. He wasn't going to listen to them anyway. Yuri was hard enough to control when he was a bratty 15-year-old, but as he got older, he got even more stubborn (if that was even possible). It didn't help that Yuri had himself three, overbearing coaches at this point in his career. One was bad enough in his opinion. In addition to Yakov, who had been coaching him since he could skate, and Lilia, who had been coaching him since he was 15, he had Victor Nikiforov.

Victor had retired two years prior after earning his final gold medal in the 2017-2018 World Championships. Even though people had pushed and urged him to participate in the 2018 Olympics, he decided he was fulfilled in his career and retired. His finance, Yuri Katsuki, took bronze in the 2017-2018 World Championships and ended up placing fourth in the 2018 Olympics before announcing his own retirement.

Yuri Plisetsky, on the other hand, had no intentions of retiring any time soon. After squeaking out a victory in the 2016-2017 Grand Prix series, he started training much harder. He never wanted to win by that small of a margin ever again. He came second to Victor in the 2017-2018 World Championships and to a Canadian skater in the 2018 Olympics. Instead of being discouraged, he was determined to always come out on top from then on. For the past four years, he had taken gold in the Grand Prix series and the World Championships and was well on the way to surpassing all the records Victor had set. He had grown so much as a skater, but not so much as a person. All of the victories went straight to his head and he had become quite an insufferable jerk. The only reason Yuri and Victor put up with him was their naturally cheery dispositions. Besides them, he really had no friends (even though Yuri would never admit that they were his friends). Physically, he was quite the dream for girls everywhere. He never really grew into much muscles, keeping his slim frame. He kept his hair the same too, insisting it was "his image." Twenty year old Yuri had his sights set on gold at all of the 2021-2022 skating events and the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics.

Right now, he sat slumped waiting for his results. He sighed deeply as the girls in the stands screamed at the top of their lungs about how much they wanted him to carry their babies. He ignored all of the shouts, commentary, and his coaches berating him. Yuri tugged on the sleeves of his jacket so it covered his hands which were starting to feel a bit chilly and yawned lazily. He was brought back into reality by intensified screaming and jostling from either side. Yuri looked up and smirked; he had won by a landslide. He stood and left the kiss and cry and his coaches to take off his skates for the medal ceremony.

"YURIO!" Yuri tensed up when he heard that nickname he hated so much. He shot a glare up at the stands and saw what he anticipated, Victor and Yuri K. holding up a banner with his name and the Russian flag. Yuri groaned and ducked his head down. He'd have to deal with them soon enough and wanted to put that off for as long as possible.

After receiving his newest gold medal and making interview rounds with several reporters, he finally was able to leave for his hotel. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder as he exited the skating arena and pulled up his hood to avoid being recognized by his overly touchy fans. He got in a cab without any trouble and trudged into the hotel lobby.

"YURIO!" He heard as soon as he entered the lobby and he had half a mind to turn around and spend the night in the cold rather than face those waiting for him. He didn't move fast enough and was unfortunately nearly tackled by two eager men.

"Get off!" he shouted at the two of them. "Control yourselves."

"Yurio, I am so proud of all that you accomplished," Victor told him placing his hands on the younger mans shoulders.

"Eh...whatever, geezer." Yurio shook him off and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor.

"We do, however, need to work on your free leg," Victor went into coach mode.

"I know, I know."

"And that last jump...well it left a lot to be desired. The judges were generous with the points on that one." Yurio actually didn't mean to blow off his coach this time, but he couldn't help the yawn that escaped his lips. "Oh. I should have figured you needed rest right now. We'll talk more in the morning on the flight!" Victor said cheerily. "Goodnight, Yurio!" Victor headed towards the elevators and his quiet partner Yuri waved before following. Yurio groaned thinking about his early morning flight and reluctantly headed towards the other elevators so he could get a few hours of sleep.

Yurio had enough of Victor about 30 seconds into the flight. Thankfully he was at the window seat and could put headphones in and leave Victor and Yuri to chat on their own. He watched the clouds for a bit before drifting off to sleep. He would be able to get plenty of sleep on the long flight back to St. Petersburg. Yurio knew he would have long weeks of training for the Olympics as soon as the plane landed.

• • • • • • •

The house was still and silent. All the inhabitants were fast asleep and dreaming happily. They were until the shrill beeping of an alarm disturbed the atmosphere. Groaning, the human occupant of the bed did her best to roll over and reach the alarm without knocking over the cat that was nestled on top of her. She managed to hit the snooze button before flopping fave first onto her pillow. The cat she had been so careful not to disturb, stood up and stretched before pawing at the girl's head, meowing softly.

"Not now, Josie," Anastasia complained. After more pawing and whining, the girl relented. Anastasia slowly rose from her cozy bed and untangled herself from the many blankets. She stretched and swore she heard every bone in her body pop. Letting her feet touch down on the soft, shag carpet, she stood and trudged into the kitchen to feed her cat and put on a pot of coffee. As she passed through the living room, she grabbed the remote and turned on the T.V. The news slowly flickered to life and she continued into the kitchen, setting the remote down on the counter. She could see the T.V. from the open wall space between rooms. As she fed her cat and made herself coffee, she half-listened to the morning reports. Josie finished eating and rubbed up against Anastasia as if to say thank you. After she poured her cup of coffee, she bent down to pick up the fluffy, gray cat before heading back into the living room. She sunk into her plush couch and turned her full attention to the news. Josie got bored of sitting and hopped down to play with her toys. Anastasia absentmindedly massaged her sore knee.

Two years ago, Anastasia and some of her friends had been in a terrible car accident on the way home from a party. All of them were absolutely wasted and didn't realize what a bad idea it was to get in a car in their conditions. The driver and passenger were killed on impact, but the three in the backseat survived. Lydia, a childhood friend of the man who was driving, was now paralyzed from the waist down and would never walk again. Santi, an Italian gymnast, walked away with the least injuries: a concussion and two broken ribs. His condition after the accident was deemed a miracle by doctors based on how everyone else faired. Anastasia could also be considered lucky when you consider she could have died. She ended up with a small concussion and glass shards covering her body which left a small scar behind her left ear. Her right leg was the most damaged with a broken ankle, knee cap, and hip bone. If she was any normal person, rehabilitation would have been enough. She found herself walking again without a limp in just six months. Anastasia, however, was not normal.

When she was barely old enough to walk, Anastasia had a pair of skates strapped on her and was dragged onto an ice rink by her parents. Ever since then, they were dragging her off the ice. She was naturally talented and made a name for herself in the skating industry. She had many Championships and medals under her belt by the time she made it to the 2018 Olympics at just 15 years old. She took bronze in her event, but made her country and her parents very proud. Anastasia credited most of her success to her coach Yakov Feltsman who had a soft spot for the young girl. Him and his ex-wife put a lot of effort into making her who she was as a skater.

Anybody who met Anastasia couldn't help but be entranced by her. She was incredibly graceful on the ice and in person. When she floated into the room, all eyes went to her. She was quiet, but kind. Quite the opposite from Yuri Plisetsky, who she trained with. Victor always teased the two of them saying they were like fire and ice but would one day recognize how similar they really were. Anastasia always brushed the older man off while Yuri yelled at him for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Anastasia was never all that close to Victor. They would share a rink with each other and offer feedback, but they never hung out. Anastasia would never admit it, but she admired the man and his accomplishments and wanted to be as successful as him one day. Victor, on the other hand, adored the young girl and followed her career as if it was his own. He gushed about the prodigy in interviews and sought out her company whenever they were at the rink at the same time.

It was a whole different story with Anastasia and Yuri. From the moment they met, she was captured with his form and his eyes: a vibrant green with a passionate fire behind them. Before they spoke, Anastasia was determined to get him to be friends with her. Then they spoke, and Anastasia realized he was grumpy and arrogant. After that, she would watch him skate with a respect for his skills, but did not attempt a friendship with him. Honestly, she was a little scared of his temper. Sure she got angry, but she was naturally soft-spoken and took her anger out at home rather than in front of her coaches. Yuri would yell right in their faces until he turned red. He was a pain in the ass and Anastasia avoided him when they trained at the same time.

She hadn't seen any of the people she skated with in years. After her injury, she focused her efforts on physical therapy in the hopes she could return to skating one day. Unfortunately, the damage that was done to her leg left her too weak to ever hope to skate competitively ever again. She knew she should be grateful she was even alive, but that crash had taken away her dream and her entire life. Once she realized all she ever wanted was gone, Anastasia changed. She no longer smiled as much and sported a "nasty resting bitch face" as Lydia called it. Anastasia's demeanor was not at all cheerful and she found herself more susceptible to her temper now. The depression was the worst. She had gotten past the darkest times, but the uneasiness of her unknown future sat in the pit of her stomach all the time now.

Anastasia's attention was diverted from the screen as her phone went off. She frowned when she realized she had no idea where it was. Rising from her comfortable position, she ambled back into the bedroom and flipped on the lights. The ring was now quieter so she left to search elsewhere. As she noticed the ringtone was about to reach its end, she sped up her pace, eventually finding it next to the kitchen sink.

"Hello?"

"Hello, dear!" She hadn't had time to check the caller I.D. but recognized her mother's voice immediately.

"Morning, mother. How is Australia?" Anastasia's parents were ridiculously wealthy and loved to go on multi-month "vacations." When she was younger, Anastasia went everywhere with them and saw amazing sights. Recently, though, she hadn't felt up for it. Her parents had left 6 months ago after they were sure their daughter would be fine on her own. She had no idea when they would return.

"Beautiful, darling. The animals here are just adorable. I love it!"

"Morning, bear!" She heard her father yell from the background. Bear was her nickname since childhood. Her father had given it to her with no real explanation besides 'I like it' and it stuck.

"Hi, dad. How much longer are you there?" she asked sitting back down on the sofa.

"Just until tomorrow. Then we're off to South Africa." Anastasia chuckled at her mother. She was 19 now, but missed her parents company in their big, empty home. "But that's not why I'm calling."

"Mother, I am going to all my physical therapy sessions, I am eating three meals a day, and I even visited Lydia last week."

"Oh no, dear. I'm not checking up on you. I trust you." Anastasia couldn't help but feel relieved at those words. Her parents had called every day for a full three months after they left to check up on her. "No I'm calling about the Grand Prix series."

"Oh?" Anastasia said curiously. She flipped off the T.V. so her mother would have her full attention. They hadn't talked about figure skating for a few months now. "What about it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Did you see who won again this year?"

"Well, since I don't watch those things anymore, no. And which winner? Men or women? Because I was fully expecting Sharon from America this year to win, but I heard she didn't even make it to-"

"The men," her mother cut her off. "Little Yuri Plisetsky won again! Who would've known that little cutie you grew up with would be so good!" her mother gushed. Anastasia had gone stoic as her former rink-mates name. She hadn't seen or spoken to him in over two years. And they never even spoke that much when they skated together.

"Oh," was the only response she could muster.

"You alright?" her mother asked. She had stopped gushing about "The Russian Prince" and her tone was laced with concern now. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I just thought since you grew up alongside him it mi-"

"It's fine. Really," Anastasia insisted sucking in a breath. "Listen I have to go. I'm starting that new job today and I need to get ready and head out."

"Oh! That's right! Well good luck. I know you'll be perfect. But please be careful, dear. Do not overexert yourself and stretch plenty and take breaks when you need to. In fact you may not even have to be out-"

"I'll be fine, mother. Enjoy South Africa."

"Thank you. Love you, dearie!"

"Love you, bear!" She heard her father call.

"Love, you guys." She smiled as the line went dead. Anastasia let her arm fall to her side and she stood slowly. After staring off, lost in thought, she pulled herself together and began to get ready for the day.


	2. Chapter 2 – We Meet Again

After a protein filled breakfast and a quick shower, Anastasia threw her stuff in a duffel bag and stopped in front of her closet. It didn't matter all that much what she ended up putting on, but she wanted to look the part of the job she was starting. She hemmed and hawed for a minutes before she ended up deciding looking cute was not in the cards today. She pulled on black leggings and a dark green sweater. Once she got downstairs to the front door, she added her boots and coat.

"See you later, Josie!" she called back into the house as she left.

Anastasia put in her headphones and started her short walk to work. When she arrived she stood outside looking at the massive building and sucking in a breath trying to soothe her nerves. The huge sign that read "Skating Rink" seemed to be mocking her. Pushing those thoughts out of her head, she climbed the small series of steps to the front door. She was greeted by an older woman at the front desk who she had known since she was about six years old.

"Anya!" she cried happily. "It's been so long since I've seen you here. I thought you had quit or something." Anastasia forced a smile onto her face.

When the accident happened, she had done a lot of work keeping her name out of the news so no one knew what had happened to her. Besides her parents and those involved in the accident, Yakov and Lilia were the only two who had been informed of the condition the accident. And the only reason Anastasia allowed the news to reach them was that they were her coaches and needed to be aware of the situation seeing as how she would no longer be able to train with them. She didn't want anyone to know because she was ashamed she allowed this to happen to her. Yakov had been so concerned, he showed up at the hospital and waiting for hours upon hours for all of her surgeries to be done. He was actually the first person she saw when she woke up and the only person to see her cry when she found out what had happened. Since then, he made an effort of sending her texts every few weeks to check up on her. Anastasia hadn't heard from him in a few months, but she figured that was due to it being competition season.

"What brings you here today?" Anastasia was pulled from her thoughts by the question.

"Work," she answered simply, smiling again. "I'm private coaching some people."

"Oh, how exciting! Good luck, dear!"

Anastasia thanked her and made her way to the back of the building where the private rinks were. She had arrived half an hour before he first student was set to be here so she took that time to stretch out her muscles very carefully. She replaced her boots with fuzzy socks and her skates with the guards still on. Anastasia hadn't worn skates in a very long time and was getting a little nervous about how she would perform on the ice. She didn't even have to go out there if she didn't want to. Yakov always coached from the sidelines. But she didn't want to miss an opportunity to be reunited with her first love. She figured she would alternate the days she was out on the ice with her students so she didn't hurt herself. Slipping her coat off and a thin pair of gloves on, Anastasia looked up at the clock on the wall. Her first victim would be here any moment. She was just finishing pulling her hair into a ponytail when the door opened.

"Miss. Petrov?" Anastasia smiled at such formalities.

"Come in, come in. But please never call me Miss. Petrov ever again," she scolded with a smile on her face.

The door shut and in scampered a tiny girl. By the looks of it, she had to be about eight years old. She had a slim frame, but looked strong.

"I'm Anastasia."

"Nina," the tiny girl squeaked.

"Pleasure to meet you. You warmed up?" The girl nodded. "Alright, put on your skates and let's get on the ice so I can assess you." Anastasia took the guards off and stood in front of the ice, watching it as if it might move. She took a deep breath and stepped out onto it. For her, it was like riding a bicycle: everything felt so natural. She smiled at the familiar feeling under her feet and did a lap around the rink, relishing the cool breeze she created. She stopped, even though she wanted to keep on all day, to wait for Nina to join her.

Nina turned out to be a stronger skater than Anastasia could have imagined. She was tiny, but powerful, which pleased her teacher. However, she lacked control. That is what they would have to spend the majority of their time working on. After two hours of work, Nina was sent off so Anastasia could have her next student. Erik was twelve years old and quite confident that he was the most accomplished skater Russian had ever had. Anastasia was not going to have any of his attitude and set him straight right off the bat by pointing out all of his weaknesses. This humbled the boy, and after that, he took Anastasia's instructions much better.

Her final student of the day came in right as Erik left. This one was different, because he came with supervision. Anastasia had to do a double take by who came in the room with the kid.

"Lydia?"

"Surprise!" The woman in the wheelchair was accompanied by a woman who had to be six or seven years older. The woman left the wheelchair at the top of the stairs and carefully carried Lydia down so she could sit right by the rink and watch.

"I didn't think that you had a child," Anastasia said, skating over to the women and the boy.

"I don't. Mikey here is my nephew. This is my sister Rose," Lydia introduced the two.

"I was not aware you had decided to stay in Russia." Anastasia stepped off the ice and put on her guards. Lydia was an American who came to Russian originally on a gap year after college.

"Well Rose's husband, Leo, is from Russia originally. He was the one who suggested I come here. His job is why the family is here now. Rose asked me to stay with them once Leo was transferred and since I love it here, I accepted."

"I love it here, too. But I think I'm not the best person to ask considering it is my home," Anastasia said with a smile.

"That is true. Anyway, Mikey recently got into skating and Rose heard about the private lessons here and asked if I'd ever heard of you. Obviously, I had and told her you were the best person to coach him. I have to admit though...I was surprised. In a good way, though. It's incredible to see you on the ice again," Lydia said with a genuine smile.

"I figured never skating again, even if it was just for fun, was too horrible to bear. Besides, I need something to do with all my free time." She had a smile on her face, but anyone who knew her well would hear the bitterness in her tone. It went right over Lydia's head.

"Well I'll let you get to it!" Rose sat next to Lydia as Mikey finished lacing up his skates. He bolted for the ice as soon as he was done and Anastasia fumbled with her guards to catch up. He ended up being ridiculously fast with a weakness for form. Anastasia honestly thought maybe his best bet was getting into speed skating, but would see what she could do.

Since Mikey was her last student of the day, she packed up quickly and headed out with his family. They chatted happily as they made their way from the back of the building. About halfway there, Anastasia realized she had left her headphones. She told the other to go on without her and she would see Mikey later that week. Anastasia made her way back and scooped up the headphones from the bench she left them on before shoving them in her bag. She zipped it up and took her hair out of its ponytail. She began to pull off her gloves and place them back in her coat's pockets as she slowly walked back to the entrance. She was looking down at her hand when she heard her name.

"Tasia?" Whoever said her name was very surprised. She was too because she hadn't heard that nickname in years and couldn't place who on earth would still use it.

Anastasia halted in her tracks when she looked up and her pale complexion went even paler. Her bright blue eyes widened and she almost dropped the glove she was still holding. Standing before her was none other than Victor Nikiforov. It made sense now; he was the only person who had ever called her that even after she told him that she hated it. Just as she thought it couldn't possibly ever get any worse, the universe proved her wrong. Around the corner came Yakov Feltsman, Yuri Plisetsky, and an Asian man she didn't know. She swore quietly and desperately prayed the earth would swallow her up.

"Anastasia?" Yakov now noticed who had made Victor stop. Before he could say anything else, Victor launched himself at the girl.

"Tasia! My little ice princess! It has been so long since I have seen you or heard about your skating. Why is that? Oh, but look at how tall you are. And what on earth have you done to your hair?" Victor reached out for the ends of her red hair that fell just below her shoulders. It used to be a natural platinum blonde color and reached midway down her back. After the accident, she had cut it and dyed it. Her reasoning was that it was a part of a fresh start, but really it was so no one would be able to recognize her. That long, blonde hair was part of why she was so recognizable and without it, people wouldn't stop her on the street.

"It's nothing," Anastasia muttered, pulling the strands away from Victor's slender fingers and tucking it behind her ear.

"It is something," Victor argued. "Your hair was so pretty and you were so lucky to have to have it that color by nature."

"Anastasia." They were interrupted by Yakov who had stepped closer. He had a rare smile on his face and it made her want to break down into tears. "It has been too long," he told her. She nodded and swallowed the urge to cry. He called back to Yuri at the same time Victor yelled "Yurio!"

"What?" the young man shot back. He had his hands shoved deeply into his pockets and his typical scowl gracing his delicate features.

"You remember Anastasia, do you not?" Yakov asked gesturing for him to approach them. He complied only after a long sigh. "She trained with us a while back."

Blue eyes met green ones. The green ones were still as beautiful and vibrant with that intense fire behind them. The green eyed man noticed though, the blue eyes lacked that same passion he knew they used to have. Of course, he couldn't be bothered to care about why so he merely shrugged.

"And this is Yuri Katsuki. You've heard of him, yes?" Victor gestured for the Asian man to join their circle. He did with a nervous but gentle smile on his face. Anastasia looked blankly to Yakov for explanation. It was Victor who answered her silent plea for clarification. "He was a skater once too. Very successful and very beautiful. We are engaged," he added proudly at the end.

"I have not followed skating as much as I used to," Anastasia mumbled softly, while glancing quickly at the man Victor introduced.

"You used to know more about it than anyone, Tasia!" Victor admonished.

"Things change," Anastasia said stiffly. "I have to go feed my cat." She brushed past them and walked as quickly as she could away from them.

"We're back in St. Petersburg to train, Tasia!" Victor called after her.

"Don't be a stranger," Yakov added. They watched her continue her retreat.

"What happened to little Anastasia?" Victor asked Yakov with concern in his eyes. Yakov was silent for a moment as he thought of how to delicately answer the question.

"The answer would be better coming from her than me," came his cryptic response. He started walking away from the three younger men towards the rink they always used to practice.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Yuri asked Victor.

"I do not know. It is strange. She was so talented and promising, but one night just disappeared. I have often wondered where she had gone."

"Can we stop wondering and start skating?" Yurio asked impatiently. "I don't have time to stand around and talk with the Olympics coming up." He followed Yakov leaving Victor and Yuri alone.

"I hope she comes around again. I would love to see how she was doing and find out what happened to her," Victor told Yuri before they too headed back to the rinks.

The next morning Anastasia woke up sore. Thankfully, it was sore in a good way because she had used muscles she hadn't been actively using in a while. She dragged herself out of bed to get ready for the day. Her coaching was earlier that day so she could go to physical therapy at three. She threw on clothes and ate a hasty breakfast before leaving. She had three new students today who weren't as promising as her students from yesterday, but fun to work with. The last lesson ended around 1:45 and she figured she could enjoy the ice for a few minutes before she had to leave. Her left leg was weaker, but still able to support her as she lifted her right leg behind her. She was careful not to go too high. She placed her foot back on the ice and began to skate a backwards lap around the ice. Anastasia almost fell when she heard the doors slam shut. She came to a sloppy stop and looked up, but didn't see anyone there. She was confused, but brushed it off. After changing out of her skates and gathering up her belongings, she headed out. As she passed another private rink, a familiar face popped out from the door.

"Tasia!"

"Why do you still call me that?" she whined.

"You're here again!" Victor ignored her question and rushed over to hug her. She tried to push him off, but he was a lot taller than she was. "Would you like to come watch practice? We're working on a new jump combination with Yuri this afternoon."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because...I have...plans," she said lamely.

"What plans?" Victor was not going to let this go.

"An appointment," Anastasia answered vaguely.

"What kind of appointment?"

"One I cannot miss." She started to walk away from Victor.

"Well promise you will come by another time and watch."

"Maybe."

"Oh, please. It's not that hard to watch. And you two could skate together like you did when you were children. I remember how cute you both were. Him and his temper and you with that silent eye roll."

"I will see what I can do," she noncommittally promised. "But I have to go now." She left the silver-haired man standing there alone. He walked back into the rink once she turned the corner and walked back down the stairs to stand by Yakov.

"Who was that?" Yakov didn't take his eyes off Yurio as he asked the question. He had obviously heard Victor talking, but couldn't make out to whom.

"Anastasia. She was here again, but she left very fast just like yesterday. Said she had an appointment."

"Oh?" Yakov turned away from the blonde to make eye contact with Victor.

"Yes. She did not say what it was. Only that she could not miss it. I would say it was an excuse to leave, but she seemed to be serious about it." The look in Yakov's eyes told Victor he knew where she was going, but he did not push the subject. "I asked her to come and watch a practice soon and she said she would try." Yakov nodded.

"Hey!" Yurio had stopped skating and stopped in front of his coaches. "Why aren't you watching?" he demanded.

"Calm down and keep going," Yakov shot back. Victor sat down next to Yuri who was taking notes on the new jump combination.

"Did you see Anastasia again?"

"Yes. She's so," Victor paused to search for the right word, "different. I mean just look at her hair. She was always so proud of that long, blonde hair that she was naturally blessed with. Now it's red."

"Yeah," Yuri nodded. "I remember watching her skate on T.V. and even in person once. I always remembered her by her hair. That and she was incredible on the ice."

"Incredible is an understatement. She was absolute magic. Anastasia had a certain grace and charm about her that I have never seen in another skater. It makes no sense that she left."

"Maybe she was injured," Yuri suggested. "It happens a lot to skaters."

"True," Victor agreed. "But wouldn't we have heard about it?" Yuri shrugged and went back to taking notes.

After physical therapy, Anastasia threw her bag on her bedroom floor and flopped face-first onto her bed. She let out a long groan. She had been so unfocused in physical therapy today after her conversation with Victor. She knew she could only blow him off for a short while before he dragged her to a practice. She only hoped if she sat through one, he would leave her alone.

"But I'd never be that lucky," she muttered to herself as she sat up. The more she was around Victor, the better chance he had of finding out about why she left the skating world. And if he found out, well she didn't want to think about how fast news would travel because Victor had a hard time keeping his mouth shut.

'He could find out if I go to practice because he'll want me to skate as well and telling him no can be quite difficult,' she ran through a possible series of events in her head. Any way she played it, there was never a positive outcome. But none of that mattered at this point. All that mattered was sleep. Anastasia slipped under her blankets without bothering to change into pajamas and curled up into a ball. She let out a yawn and felt Josie hop up on the bed to join her for a nap. She would worry about Victor tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3 – A New Arrangement

**Hello! Enjoy! :)**

"So it's not good to see them again?"

"No!" Anastasia paused in the middle of her exercise and whipped around to look at Gleb, her physical therapist. "I do not want to see them." She continued with her exercise.

"Why not?" Anastasia stopped again searching for the words to explain what she was feeling.

"It's...weird I guess."

"Why?" Gleb pushed.

"Because. They are people I had around during the time of my life when I was skating...when I _could_ skate. It brings up memories that I do not want to think of."

"What memories?"

"Last time I checked you were a therapist for my body not my mind," Anastasia shot back, glaring at him. Gleb chuckled.

"The mind and the body are so interconnected. Sometimes physical things that may be bothering you can be related to your mental state."

"That is garbage," Anastasia said bluntly causing Gleb to laugh again.

"Give me another five and then we'll do some cool-down stretches." Anastasia complied and then they were both on the floor reaching for their toes. "How have you been feeling since you started skating again?"

"Physically or emotionally?" Anastasia teased.

"Physically," Gleb responded not bothering to hide his eye roll.

"A little sore," she admitted. "But not in a bad way," she added hastily.

"That's good. Just what I expected. I think skating with actually be good for you physically." He stood up and extended a hand for Anastasia to take. Once she was standing as well, he noticed her rubbing the small of her back. "Your still in pain there?"

"Yeah." Anastasia hadn't broken any bones in her back in the accident, but her vertebrae had been thrown off a bit. Her active lifestyle did not help matters, but she had pretty much adjusted to the constant pain in her lower back. "It's a little worse than usual today," she admitted grimly.

"That's not good," Gleb murmured. He began to search through his bag before tossing Anastasia a thin, blue bottle. "Apply this twice a day or when the pain gets worse."

"Another cream?" Anastasia questioned. She already had several bottles back at home, each serving a specific purpose for various parts of her constantly aching body.

"This one will cater specifically to your back," Gleb explained.

"You just happened to have that in your bag?"

"Well I was waiting for you to admit you back was suffering, too." Gleb rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm a physical therapist. I notice these things." Anastasia's mouth was set into a firm line. She hated that he was always right. "Anyway don't you have lessons that you have to get to?"

"Dammit!" Anastasia glanced at the clock and realized he was right. "I'll see you tomorrow, Gleb." She chucked everything into her duffel and raced through the doors. She arrived at the rink slightly out of breath, but on time. Anastasia pulled her hair back and had almost reached the rink she taught in when she was stopped in her tracks by _that_ nickname.

"Tasia! Fancy seeing you here again. Funny, we don't see you here at the rink for years and now we just keep running into each other." Victor had continued chatting merrily as he approached her.

"Nikiforov," Anastasia held her hand up to stop Victor. She felt a headache forming and pinched the bridge of her nose. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go." She tried stepping around him, but he side-stepped to stay in front of her.

"Can you watch practice today?" he asked.

"Uhm, probably not. I'm busy and you will be done before I am."

"I doubt it," Victor said with a snort. "Yurio has a tendency to slack off. Yakov won't let practice end until he's satisfied. Stop by when you're done." Anastasia nodded but had no intentions of actually complying with his request.

Anastasia stayed off the ice today to make sure she didn't strain her back more. She made her corrections from the side as she had seen Yakov do for so many years. Though she felt as if she was much nicer and more lenient than her former coach. Anastasia was walking out with Lydia, Rose, and Mikey when Yakov stopped her.

"I heard from Victor that you were her again," he stated plainly. Anastasia nodded, unsure where he was going with this.

"Is this Yakov?" Lydia asked.

"Sorry...I do not believe we have met," Yakov told the woman in the wheelchair.

"Oh no, we haven't. I heard about you from Anya all the time and I've seen you sit next to her in that little booth after performances." Yakov nodded at the explanation.

"And you are...?"

"Lydia is a friend of mine," Anastasia interjected. "She was one of the ones...that is...she was in the...well..."

"I was in the accident with her," Lydia took over. "My nephew Mikey takes skating lessons from her now."

"Lessons?" Yakov's tone was accusatory as he spun to glare at Anastasia.

"Yeah..." Lydia sensed the tension between the two of them. "I'll let you too catch up. See you next week, Anya."

"Bye, Miss. Petrov!" Mikey chimed in. Anastasia wished they would have taken her with them as the last person she wanted to face right now was Yakov.

"You are coaching? Why did you not tell me?" He wasn't accusing her anymore. He seemed more upset that she hadn't kept him up to date in her life.

"We haven't spoken in a while. You've been busy with competition season and I imagine Plisetsky is still as much of a pain in the ass these days as he used to be."

"That would be an understatement," Yakov admitted with a snort. "He's become even more of a pain in the ass recently. He trains, complains about training, and mopes around most of the time. I swear, if all of his fangirls knew how grumpy he is all of the time maybe they would not be as eager for him to have their children." Anastasia grimaced at the thoughts of what underage girls were screaming at the skater.

"So, he has not changed much since I knew him."

"No. Not much at all." They stood in silence for a few minutes as Anastasia fidgeted with her sleeves. "You should come in and join us."

"No I-"

"I won't let Victor make you skate," Yakov assured. "You know he will keep asking until you come. Get it over with sooner rather than later." Anastasia weighed her options. It's not as if she had anything to get to back to at her big, empty home. But did she really want to subject herself to watching a practice and be reminded of all she couldn't do now. She figured it would be best to just suck it up and stop spending all of her life moping about concerned with all the things that 'could have been.'

"Fine," she relented, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag. She felt her fingernails dig into the palm of her hand as she followed Yakov. When they entered the room, the attention of the three skaters was drawn to them.

"Lilia is not here?" she asked as they went down the stairs to join the others.

"No." Anastasia did not press the issue any further when she saw the annoyed look on Yakov's face because of her question.

"Tasia, you came!" Victor skated over to the edge of the rink so he could grasp Anastasia's hand in his own. He placed a kiss on the back of her hand and smiled widely.

"Hey, old man! Are you fixing my jump or not?" If he was annoyed by the younger skater, Victor did not show it. He flashed his fiancé a grin before skating back out. Yakov stood at the edge of the rink and Anastasia decided to sit next to Yuri.

"Hi," she greeted him. After all, she had nothing against this guy; she didn't even know him.

"It's really an honor to meet you," Yuri told her. "I saw you skate once in person and it was remarkable." Anastasia couldn't help the blush that crept onto her face. She never got used to being complimented. "You have been brought up occasionally in training with Yurio."

"I have?"

"Mhmm. Sometimes a story comes up from your old training days or Yakov will mention you when making a point to Yurio." They watched Yurio get increasingly frustrated with something Victor was trying to teach him. At one point, he lost his footing and slammed into the ice. Anastasia tensed up and unconsciously leaned forward, waiting for him to stand back up. He did, angrily, and started yelling at Victor.

"Yuri!" Yakov shouted at him. "Take a break." Yurio and Victor continued to stare at each other. "Now," he ordered when Yurio didn't move. The skater finally listened and skated off to the side, stepping off the ice and placing his guards on. He sat down in a huff and sipped from his water bottle.

"I don't know why he can't seem to get it," Victor told Yakov. He was still on the ice, but was leaning on the side to speak to the coach.

"Everything seems alright. Must be in his head or something."

"His height is off," Anastasia mumbled to herself without thinking. Yuri turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"I think you may be right," he told her as his bit his lip, mid-thought. Their conversation drew Yakov and Victor's attention.

"What is it?" Yakov asked.

"Anastasia may be right."

"About what?" Victor looked from Yuri to Anastasia. Feeling all eyes on her, she suddenly felt uncomfortable and self-conscious. She shouldn't have come here today.

"I-It's," she stuttered. "It's his height."

"What about my height?" Yurio had been so paranoid about how short he was as a teenager. Even though he grew to stand as tall as Victor, he was still a little touchy.

"Not how tall you are," Anastasia explained. "How much height you're getting in your jump. It's not enough. It's also the angle of your arms. They're just _slightly_ off."

"I should've seen that," Yakov berated himself.

"I've just got a different vantage point than you," Anastasia shrugged it off. "I don't think I would've noticed either if I had been on the ice."

"Yurio, try it again," Victor said excitedly. The young man grumbled his way back onto the ice and attempted what he had tried so many time before that day. It wasn't perfect, he stumbled on the landing and had to reach out a hand to steady himself, but it was better.

"Good eye, Anya." Yakov shot Anastasia a look that she couldn't decipher. She suddenly felt overwhelmed by the day and stood up quickly, startling Yuri.

"I should really head out now."

"Really? You haven't been here very long." Victor pouted.

"I'm a bit tired from today and you all need to keep working. So I'll just go now and maybe I'll see you later or something." Anastasia started backing out of the room while rattling off her excuses. "Anyway so bye." Before any of them had time to respond, the door shut behind her.

The first thing Anastasia did the next morning was call her therapist. She had stopped going to appointments about two months ago, but her therapist insisted she call her anytime she was feeling overwhelmed or upset about something.

"Anastasia? Are you alright?" The only time Anastasia had called her therapist before this was at 3 in the morning when she had a nightmare that left her hyperventilating.

"Yes, I'm fine Veronika. Well...mostly."

"What happened?" Veronika's tone was smooth and comforting.

"I started my new job."

"That's wonderful. How does it feel to be back on the ice?"

"It feels," Anastasia paused, "well it feels like home."

"That's good to hear." Veronika paused, Anastasia assumed it was to scratch down a few notes. "So what's the problem?" Typical of her to cut right to the chase.

"I saw my coach again. And some people I used to skate with." There was silence over the line.

"I see. I'm gathering this is bringing back memories you didn't want to revisit." Anastasia nodded, forgetting her therapist couldn't see the action.

"Yeah," she said hoarsely. "As much as I would love for there to be a happy reunion and to be able to face them again..."

"You just can't," Veronika finished. Anastasia nodded again and Veronika seemed to know she had this time. "Anastasia, feeling these things is completely normal."

"But I don't want to deal with it anymore. I'm tired of it."

"It won't disappear overnight, Anastasia. You've come so far and gotten past so much," Veronika reminded her. "I have no doubts in your abilities to keep moving forward and be able to face these problems head-on. You're stronger than you think. Everything may feel overwhelming and unbearable right now, but it's through adversity that you grow."

"So what you're saying is I should spend more time with them?"

"I'm not telling you to do anything. You need to decide what's best on your own. All I'm saying is, maybe it wouldn't be altogether a bad idea to be around them. After all, they were an important part of your life for so long. Perhaps being with them could bring some good out as well as the bad. Over time, the good may outweigh the bad. Understand?"

"I think so. I'm not making any promises."

"I don't expect you too," Veronika said with a chuckle. "Just take it a day at a time and call me again if you're feeling overwhelmed by it all."

"I will," Anastasia assured her. She hung up the phone and laid in bed for a few minutes longer before preparing for her day.

Anastasia didn't have any lessons today, but she still had to go to physical therapy. When she got to Gleb's office, he had a mischievous glint in his eyes. She noticed he was wearing a tracksuit and gloves.

"Going somewhere?" she asked him, dropping down into one of the comfy chairs in his office.

"Yes, _we_ are." He started to lace up his trainers.

"Okay. Where are _we_ going?"

"For a jog!" he said brightly, straightening up.

"Oh no," Anastasia groaned. "No way. First of all, I hate running. Second of all, I don't know if my body can handle it." It's not as if she was out of shape of anything. Her physical therapy helped her keep pretty fit. Anastasia was concerned her leg would give out if she worked it too much.

"You'll be fine," Gleb assured her. "I've been keeping track of your progress and this will be an excellent next step to keeping active. Unless you think you don't have the stamina for it," he challenged. Anastasia narrowed her eyes and stood up.

"You're on."

• • • • • • •

"Can we...please...take a break," Anastasia wheezed. Gleb stopped running and Anastasia took the opportunity to bend nearly in half and place her hands on her knees. "I think...I'm dying," she choked out. The air she gulped in was so cold that her lungs felt like they were going to shrivel up.

"I thought you were in shape?" Gleb taunted, stretching to keep warm.

"I am in shape!" she spat back. "I just haven't run in so long." She groaned as she stood up straight and let her hands fall back onto her knees, still breathing heavily.

"How does you leg feel?"

"Don't worry about my leg, worry about my lungs!" she barely managed to shriek at him.

"You have quite the flair for dramatics, don't you?" Gleb quirked an eyebrow and watched Anastasia continue to catch her breath while doubled over.

"Comes with the job," she shot back. Anastasia tried to stand up but a tinge in her back made her fold in half again. "I hate you. I hate you so much." Gleb laughed as he watched her struggle.

"Anya?"

'WHAT ELSE COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT FROM ME, UNIVERSE? END MY MISERY!' her thoughts echoed through her head as she painfully righted herself.

"Lilia?" Anastasia was surprised that it was her former coach that addressed her. She was less surprised by the party of people that were traveling behind the scary woman. She barely had time to shoot her physical therapist a pained look before they group reached the two.

"Anya, I almost did not recognize you. What on earth have you done to your hair?" her question was laced with a tone of disgust. Obviously, she was not a fan of the change.

"Hello, Lilia," Anastasia greeted somberly, preparing for the flurry of corrections that would inevitably come from her former coaches' mouth.

"What are you doing outside in the cold wearing so little?" Lilia demanded, gesturing to the leggings and thin track jacket she wore.

"I was not aware I would be outside today," she mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Do not mumble. It is unbecoming of a young lady to not speak clearly." Anastasia wanted to stab herself in the face with a sharp object. Anything to get her away from this overbearing woman. She had enough of Lilia in all her years of training. Lilia's intensive workouts were the one thing she didn't miss from her skating days.

"Sorry, ma'am."

"Who is this?" she asked. It was clear she was speaking about Gleb.

"I'm Gleb, Anastasia's phy-"

"Friend!" Anastasia interrupted awkwardly. "He is my friend," she smoothed over. "A friend who likes to run and do other torturous activities." She glared at Gleb from the corner of her eye, obviously still not over the fact that he had forced her outside today. Gleb snorted, but covered his laugh with a cough when he saw Lilia's glower.

"You did not tell me Anya was back in town, Yakov," Lilia said to her ex-husband.

"I was not aware we were on a speaking outside of practice basis."

"We are not. But still, it would've been nice to know. Anya was always my most graceful pupil." Anastasia was surprised at Lilia's rare compliment. Perhaps she was going senile in her old age. "In fact..." Anastasia did not like the look in Lilia's eyes. The last time she had see that look, she ended up having to do over-splits on chairs. Her legs hurt just thinking about it. "She would be perfect for you," Lilia said as she glanced over her shoulder at Yurio who yelled "What?" at the same time that Anastasia said "Excuse me?"

"Perfect for what exactly?" Victor asked excitedly. He was way too into whatever was about to happen.

"Don't you think, Yakov, that she would be the perfect replacement for me?"

"Replacement for what?" Anastasia was panicking on the inside.

"I am retiring," Lilia explained.

"You already retired," Anastasia countered.

"I am retiring again."

"You are re-retiring?" Anastasia asked.

"Yes. Now shush," Lilia snapped. "I am retiring _again_ and Yuri will be needing someone to help with his form." Suddenly, Anastasia saw where this way going and she regretted getting out of bed that morning.

"Lilia," Anastasia started, choosing her words carefully. "I-I can't h-"

"Actually," Gleb interrupted. All eyes turned to him as he continued. "That may not be the worst idea." Anastasia begged him with her eyes to not voice his opinion.

"How so?" Yakov inquired.

"If she helps your skater out, then maybe we can do less... _running_." Anastasia knew by running he meant that if she participated in the training, it would count as physical therapy. She knew as soon as he deemed it a part of her "regime" she wouldn't be able to refuse. Her mind went into high-alert, but she had no idea how she was going to prevent it from happening.

"That makes no sense," Lilia said confused.

"I think you _should_ do it, Anastasia." That's it. It was over. She was doomed. Her future had been decided with those seven, little words from Gleb.

"Wonderful. Yakov will be in touch with more details of training times and places. It was good to see you." Lilia walked off, considering the matter settled. Yurio followed, grumbling something under his breath.

"We'll get to work together again, Tasia! I'll see you soon." Victor smiled at her before grasping Yuri's hand and following the others.

"I will send you our training schedules and you can work around your own schedule to figure out when it would be best for you to join us," Yakov said. "Have a good run." Yakov left, leaving a fuming Anastasia with her physical therapist.

"What. The. Hell. Was. That?" Anastasia demanded, hitting Gleb with every punctuated word.

"Ow! Anastasia, cut it out," Gleb grabbed her wrists to prevent her from assaulting him any more.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that it would be good for you. Not only physically, because you'll be working the muscles in your legs in ways we haven't really worked on in a while, but emotionally too," Gleb explained.

"Last time I checked, you were not my therapist." It seemed as if Anastasia would be expressing this sentiment a lot to him. Boy was Veronika going to get an earful tonight.


	4. Chapter 4 – Memories

**Enjoy! :)**

Yurio was sprawled across the couch in his apartment with his cat, Potya, curled into a ball on top of his stomach. One of his legs was draped off the edge while the other was hooked over the backrest. He yawned lazily and continued to scratch her behind the ears as he watched some melodramatic show play on his television. He wasn't really paying attention, but he enjoyed the noise it created in his otherwise silent home. Glancing down at his phone, he noticed he was supposed to be at practice in two minutes. Yurio had no intention of being at practice in two minutes. He figured whenever he felt like moving, he would head to the rink, which was only a five minute walk from where he lived. A couple of minutes later, his phone dinged. Looking down, he saw a text from 'Old Man' – what Victor was in his phone. Yurio groaned and set his phone back down without bothering to read what it said. Moments later, it dinged again with a text from 'Pork Cutlet Bowl.' Yurio snorted at the nickname he had given Yuri years ago. He enjoyed another ten minutes in his own thoughts before his phone started ringing. He checked the caller I.D: 'Hard-ass' – that was Yakov.

"Damn." Now is when he actually had to answer his phone. He answered and brought the phone to his ear. "What?"

"Where the hell are you?" Yurio took the phone away from his ear as his coach began screaming. He rolled his eyes and sighed as Yakov continued ranting.

"Alright alright," Yurio rose from his comfy position and placed his cat on the couch where he had been. "I'm coming now."

"You should've been here twenty minutes ago! I shouldn't have to te-"

Yurio cut off his coach by hanging up the phone. He grabbed his duffel which was ready and waiting by the door and slammed the door behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hung his head as he began his short walk to the rink.

Anastasia sat on the edge of her bathtub with her feet soaking in the warm water she had filled it with. She was typing furiously on her phone in attempts to move around her schedule so she could train Yurio at the same time every day. By putting her physical therapy session on Sunday mornings and all her lessons in the morning to mid-afternoon, she would be able to work with him on his form around 4 in the afternoon. She pulled her sore feet from the tub and dried them off as she continued to type. Entering her bedroom, she pulled on a pair of socks and boots before searching for her old ballet stuff. She came across her old pointe shoes and scoffed. Lilia, who coached her privately for years, had forced Anastasia to get on pointe when she was younger. She knew for a fact she would not be able to do it anymore with the state of her right leg. She ended up throwing some leg warmers, a handful a stretch bands in various colors, and a pair of white jazz shoes in her bag. Grabbing her coat, she hurried out the door.

As she approached the rink, a figure dressed in all black climbed the steps right ahead of her. They pulled open the door and kept it propped open with their hand until Anastasia got to the door.

"Thanks," she said as she took the door.

"No problem," they told her, glancing over their shoulder. A familiar pair of green eyes met her blue ones.

"Oh, Yuri." She was taken aback. "Don't you have practice?"

"Where do you think I'm going?" he shot back as they both walked back to the private rinks. This was the first time they had spoken in at least two years. Even when they trained together, they barely spoke. As they reached their respective rinks, they parted ways.

"I'll see you this afternoon," she told him. He only grunted in response and when her back was to him, she rolled her eyes. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath as she skipped down the steps to the rink.

After a pretty full day of coaching, Anastasia packed up her things and sighed. Now she had to go spend an hour or so with someone she guaranteed was even less mature than some of her students. As she entered the rink he was practicing in, the familiar sound of Yakov's shouting reached her ears. It was almost comforting... _almost_.

"Focus! Focus! Focus!" he shouted at the blonde who seemed to be completely ignoring him as usual. Anastasia could feel the anger and frustration coming off both of them. This was probably a good time for her to intervene. Although, she wasn't too keen on being around Yurio when he was in this sort of mood. She made sure the door shut behind her with enough noise to alert everyone in the room of her presence.

"Tasia!" Anastasia barely held back scowl as Victor stood to greet her.

"Thank god," she heard Yakov mutter. "You can deal with him now." He began to put on his coat and gloves as Yurio stepped off the ice.

"Thanks for leaving him with me when he's in a mood like this," Anastasia told Yakov sarcastically as he headed for the exit.

"Don't worry. Victor and Katsuki will be with you," he assured her.

"Oh, even better." The sarcasm rolled off her tongue and she crossed her arms, popping her hip out to the side. "I reserved one of the studios upstairs. No one is usually up there so it should be pretty quiet." The four of them headed upstairs with Victor chatting up a storm and Yurio keeping quiet.

Anastasia flipped on the lights when they entered the studio. She tossed her bag in the corner and pushed the ballet bar to the side of the room. She pulled off the boots and put on her leg-warmers and jazz shoes. She stood back up and saw Yurio still standing by the entrance with his bag still over his shoulder and his arms crossed.

"You can put you stuff down," she told him slowly, slightly afraid he would snap at her. He only tossed his bag aside and re-crossed his arms. "You want to keep your jacket on?" Her question was met with silence then a shrug. "Alright, that's fine too." She walked over to the bar in front of the mirror, but Yurio did not follow. "Over here," she coaxed. Victor and Yuri snickered as Yurio stalked over to Anastasia. "Leg up on the lower bar please." He complied sloppily. "Now, extend your arms above your head."

"Is there a point to this?"

"I'm assessing your flexibility and form." After a small stare-off, he reached his arms up. "Can you move your leg to the higher bar?" When he did, Anastasia frowned. "Your form is messy and it is very apparent. And your flexibility leaves a lot to be desired." Yurio let his arms fall back to his side and his leg touch down on the floor.

"That does not come as a surprise," Victor spoke up. "Lilia has barely been around to work with him the last few months and even before that, Yurio never showed up to her lessons."

"Well that is very apparent," Anastasia muttered shuffling over to her bag. She pulled out two stretch bands and tossed the black one to Yurio who fumbled before he caught it. Victor tried to cover his laugh with a cough and Yurio's pale cheeks were tinged with pink.

"Shut it, old man," he spat. Anastasia made her way to the center of the room and sat on the ground. She gestured for Yurio to join her.

"I'm going to teach you some stretches and exercises you can do at home to improve your flexibility."

"Oh! Can we join in too?" Victor asked eagerly.

"Uhm, sure. I have a couple of extra stretch bands in my bag if you want to grab them." Victor jogged over to her bag and pulled them out. Him and Yuri joined the other two on the floor as Anastasia began to lead them in stretches.

After an hour, she decided it was best to call it quits. She was tired and Yurio was getting on her nerves. She let him take the band home with him to work on his own but she highly doubted he would do any of the things she asked him.

"Would you two like to join us for dinner?" Victor asked, slinging an arm around Yuri's shoulder.

"There's this great, little cafe down the street from here. It has good coffee," Yuri told them with a smile. "We usua-"

"No," Yurio shot them down.

"Anastasia?" Yuri turned his attention to her.

"Tonight isn't a good night," she lied. She had no plans at all, but that didn't mean she would spend her evening with them.

"Perhaps another night then," Victor told him with a hopeful look. "Yurio, why don't you walk Tasia home."

"I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow." Anastasia walked away quickly before Yurio even had a chance to respond.

They spent the next couple weeks improving Yurio's flexibility. Anastasia couldn't even work on his form until his flexibility was up to her standards. After the first few days, she could tell Yurio was a little sore, but he was too stubborn to admit it. She wasn't going to give him anything for the pain until he openly admitted to her that he was hurting. Her resolve broke when he struggled to lift his leg to the bar one Saturday afternoon. She saw him wince and heard a small groan escape his lips.

"You okay, Yurio?" Victor asked concerned.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine." Anastasia walked back over to her bag and sifted through the stuff she kept in there. She had millions of balms, salves, and various remedies from Gleb so she figured she would have something for him. "Here it is," she said to herself, pulling it out. She tossed it to the blonde.

"What is this?"

"It will help with the aches and pains your muscles are feeling from being worked in ways you're not used to."

"I don't need this. I'm fine," he insisted, ready to chuck it back at Anastasia.

"Then humor me." Anastasia's tone was exasperated. "Trust me, it will help you," she assured him. "I know my fair share about various remedies for aching bodies," she added to herself under her breath. He grumbled and stuffed it in his bag. Anastasia had a feeling he would be using that as soon as he was away from prying eyes.

"You know what would be fun?" Victor started.

"If you shut up and left?"

"If you two came over for dinner sometime," Victor continued, not affected at all by Yurio's comment.

"Pass."

"I'll make my family's recipe for pork cutlet bowls" Yuri offered. Yurio spun around and narrowed his eyes at the Japanese Yuri. "I know how much you love them." They continued staring at one another.

"Am I missing something?" Anastasia looked to Victor.

"Once you try Yuri's pork cutlet bowls, you will understand."

"I'm not sure I want to," she said honestly, still very confused by what was happening.

"I will give you a soft maybe," Yurio finally said.

"Perfect! How's this Friday at 7?"

"I'm sorry, when did _I_ agree to this?" Anastasia said mostly to herself than anyone else.

"Whatever," Yurio said, leaving the studio before anyone could stop him.

"Wait, Yuri! We're not finished yet." Anastasia pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Do not worry, Tasia dear. He'll come around." Anastasia doubted that. "And your work with him is showing in practice," Victor told her genuinely. She gave him a half-hearted smile before grabbing her own things and heading for the door. "Don't forget, Friday at 7." Anastasia waved her reply over her shoulder. She didn't know why Victor kept insisting they hang out; she never remembered being very close to the older skater.

Part of the reason Anastasia didn't remember being particularly close to Victor is that she was still very young when they were closest to each other. When Anastasia first came to train under Yakov, she was only 5 years old. At that time, Victor was already 18 and skating in major competitions.

When she first saw him, she was entranced by everything about him: his silver hair that seemed to be made of precious metal, his bright eyes that were filled with passion for his sport, his slender figure that performed all the moves with such ease. She was completely awestruck by his skating and decided she was going to be as good as him.

Her first day at the rink with him, she followed him around the ice in attempts to copy what he was doing. Victor was enchanted by the little girl and her blonde pigtails. He skated slower so she could keep up and stopped when she needed a break so she didn't wear herself out too much. By the end of the day, Anastasia was completely in love and Victor wanted to take the little girl home and adopt her.

Yurio had seen Anastasia come in and thought nothing of her. She was just another kid learning how to skate. There was no way she was anything special, unlike him. He was determined to become a figure skating god. However, he got slightly annoyed when she started following Victor around. What was so great about him anyway? He was past his prime and one day, Yurio was going to beat all of the records Victor had set.

The second day Anastasia showed up, she continued to fawn over Victor which further pissed off Yurio. Not like he wanted her attention or anything. Yakov yelled at Yurio the entire day for not having any concentration, but why wasn't he yelling at Victor and Anastasia for goofing off with one another. The third day, Yurio decided he had enough. When Anastasia got there, he skated up to her.

"You know, one day I'm going to be even better that Victor is," he told her smugly. Anastasia was a bit surprised as they hadn't spoken yet and she wasn't even sure who he was. "I'm going to break _all_ his records." Anastasia had the audacity to giggle. "What so funny?"

"Nothing." She continued to giggle and started to skate away.

"Hey, wait!" Yurio grabbed onto her hand to prevent her from leaving him without an answer. Anastasia lost her balance a little bit and took ahold of Yurio's arm to keep from falling.

"Let me go," Anastasia said trying to break free from the boy. He was a year older than her, but not much bigger.

"You don't think I'm going to be better than him?" he challenged her.

"No," she replied stiffly, yanking her hand from his. "Victor is the best. No one will ever be better than he is." She skated off, head held high.

"We'll see about that," Yurio growled under his breath.

Yurio spent the entire day trying to tick off Anastasia. He would skate in her way trying to throw her off balance, follow her too closely and make her nervous, and laugh whenever she made a mistake. Every time, she would shoot him a scowl which seemed so comical on her sweet, little face. At one point in the evening, Yurio skated up behind Anastasia who was blowing her nose, and tugged on her braid. That's when she lost it. She spun around and tackled him onto the ice. Yurio was too shocked to prevent them both from falling, but recovered once he felt the chilly ice make contact with his neck. He responded by rolling on top of her and pinning her down.

"Get off me!" Anastasia squealed. She surprised him by regaining control and rolling on top of the boy, tugging at his hair.

"Ow! You started it!" he growled, rolling back on top.

" _You_ started it! You're the one who pulled my hair." Her pout was ridiculously adorable, but Yurio pushed that thought from his head because he didn't care about girls or their feelings.

"You told me I wouldn't ever be as good as Victor," he tried to reason with her as he continued to keep the upper hand.

"Because you won't! Victor is the best skater ever!" Anastasia shoved at Yurio's shoulders and tried to kick his lower body off of her. She managed to get him off her for a few seconds, only to have him roll back on top.

"Why is everybody so obsessed with him?" he demanded.

"Why do you care?" Anastasia looked up at him and their eyes met. She saw a fire behind his green eyes. Even though he was so young, he had discovered his passion. Skating was the most important thing to him and he thought being the best was the most important. She stopped struggling for a moment and watched Yurio breathe heavily in an attempt to catch his breath.

"What are you two doing?" Yakov shouted at the children. This broke them out of their reverie and they went back to their wrestling match. Yurio used his hands to keep her arms down and sat on her legs to prevent getting kicked.

"You're crushing me." Anastasia was definitely exaggerating – Yurio barely weighed anything. She was saved by another skater who pulled the boy off of her. She immediately scrambled up in attempts to retackle him. She was grabbed around the waist by strong, thin arms. "Hey! Let me hit me!" she demanded from whoever pulled her from the ice. He heard a familiar chuckle and maneuvered her body to see Victor. He skated off the the side where Yakov was waiting with Yurio, both sporting scowls.

"What on earth was that?" the coach yelled at them. Anastasia shrunk in Victor's grip at her coaches raised voice. She wasn't used to being yelled at. Victor took the girl and put her on his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his legs around his torso.

"Come now, Yakov. It is late and they are probably tired."

"That is no excuse for roughhousing on the ice. One of them could have gotten hurt. And it is unprofessional behavior."

"They are children," Victor tried to calm the older man down.

"Fine," Yakov grumbled after a moment. "Get going and don't let that happen again." He stormed off. Victor let Anastasia slide down his back and onto the ice. He bent down so their eyes were on the same level.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he told her, placing a kiss on her small hand. Anastasia turned pink and giggled before rushing off to change out of her skates and tell her parents all about her day. "You, stay put." Yurio stopped in his tracks as Victor turned his attention to him. "What happened with the two of you?"

"Nothing," Yurio mumbled.

"You were pinning a little girl on the ice."

"She tackled me!"

"Well why did she tackle you?"

"Because."

"Because why, Yuri? You had to give her a reason to want to tackle you on t-"

"She doesn't think I'm a good skater!" Yurio interrupted.

"She doesn't?"

"Well...she doesn't think I'll be better than you," he admitted looking down at his skates.

"I see. And this upset you?" Yurio nodded. "Why did _her_ telling you this upset you?" Victor asked.

"It wasn't because it was _her_."

"Alright then," Victor said with a smirk. Perhaps the little skating prodigy was developing some feelings for the girl and wasn't sure how to handle them. He ruffled Yurio's hair, but his hand was shoved away. "See you tomorrow," he told the boy before skating away.

Yurio shook this memory from his head. That memory had been on his mind a lot ever since he saw Anastasia again. 'I didn't have feelings for her back then,' he told himself. 'I just didn't like being told what I couldn't do. And look at me now,' he thought proudly.

As he applied the lotion Anastasia had given him, his thoughts couldn't help but wander to why she left the skating world. He suddenly found himself pulling up Instagram and scrolling through the people he followed to find her account. He didn't remember the last time he'd seen a post from her. In the last picture she had posted, she still had her long, blonde hair. He tapped on the photo and saw the date was from over two years ago. Over two years since she had uploaded a picture? That just seemed weird to him. Then again, he did post at least one picture every single day.

In the last picture she had uploaded, her arms were wrapped around another girl who was laughing. Anastasia had a goofy grin on her face and her nose scrunched up. He didn't know she had that side to her. Upon closer examination, he was sure he had seen that other girl at the rink before but in a wheelchair. The caption underneath the picture read: "Work hard then party hard" followed by a series of emojis. He went back to her feed and started to scroll through her pictures, very careful not to double-tap any of them. It would be very embarrassing for him if he liked picture from years and years ago. Her Instagram habits from this time were very different. She had posted at least one or two pictures every day back then.

There were various pictures of her stretching in a ballet studio which he assumed were taken by some of the Russian dancers she used to train with. The captions underneath these had something to do with whatever stretch or pose she was doing. There were some pictures of her on the ice and even a couple videos of her practicing routines. He stopped on a picture of her lounging lazily on a beach with sunglasses perched precariously in her nose and a floppy sunhat shielding her face from the sun. She was flashing the camera a peace sign and had her tongue hanging from her mouth. Even though she was on the beach, she was bundled up. St. Petersburg never really got all that warm so he was not surprised. Her caption read: "Rays for days baby." He snorted at how ridiculous it was.

There was a series of pictures uploaded the same day of some sort of party. He pulled up one and saw the hashtag #sweetsixteen under it. There were various pictures of her in a tight dress and heels no human should be able to walk in. She had her arms around some douchy-looking guy in one of them who had his lips planted on her cheek. He remembered that guy hanging around the ice rink for a few months around three years ago, but he stopped coming after a while. 'Must be an ex,' he thought to himself. He scrolled past more training pictures and various shots of Anastasia doing things in St. Petersburg on her odd day off.

He stopped on a picture of the girl he remembered – five-year-old Anastasia. It had to be from the first few months she had come to train with Yakov. In the picture, she had her arms wrapped around Victor's neck. She had a broad smile on his face and he was obviously laughing. The caption said: "Five straight Grand Prix Final gold medals under the belt for this guy. What can't he do? #tbt."

The very next picture was one of the two of them. It was right after they had both taken gold in their Junior Divisions at that Grand Prix Final event. Anastasia had her left hand on her hip and her right hand holding up her medal. The look on her face wasn't one of pride, but of absolute euphoria. Yurio on the other hand, had a cocky smirk on his face and an arrogant eyebrow raised. His right hand held up his medal and his left arm was snaked tightly around Anastasia's waist, holding her close to his side. Now he remembered that photo. When it had been posted, his fangirls around the world went absolutely crazy. They were all convinced that the two of them had been secretly dating. They obsessed over every detail of the picture from how tightly they were pressed together to how low on Anastasia's hip Yurio's hand was resting. In reality, Anastasia had squirmed away from his grip as soon as the picture was taken and walked off without a word to him. If he remembered correctly, he had purposely posed that way in attempts to get his fangirls off his back for a few days. He figured if they thought he wasn't single, they wouldn't obsess over him as much. He was very wrong and ended up regretting it. His let his eyes scan her caption: "Incredibly proud and humble to be able to represent Russia today. And congrats to this guy who killed it in the men's division. What an incredible competition." and then red and blue heart emojis.

He scrolled for another 15 minutes, stopping on certain pictures that grabbed his attention. There was one from about five years ago of her in an costume and her uniform jacket over it. On either side of her were older people who looked similar to her. 'Parents?' He tapped on it and read the caption: "I am so thankful for these two who have encouraged me to follow my dreams from day one. Thanks mom and dad for pushing me out on the ice when I was barely old enough to walk and picking me up whenever I fell. I'm really happy I could share today with you." This was a post he couldn't relate to; he had never been close to his parents. After staring at the picture for another minute, he quickly exited the app and tossed his phone next to him. 'It's creepy for me to be stalking her account and looking at pictures from so long ago,' he scolded himself. He stared up at the ceiling lost in his own thoughts. A few minutes later, he drifted off to sleep and dreamt of a little girl with blonde pigtails.


	5. Chapter 5 – Dinner

**Many apologies! I was in the middle of a run of a show while writing this. We just closed so now I have more free time. Enjoy! :)**

"Yes, mother. I met Uncle Nikolai for lunch yesterday. I figured he would have already reported back to you." It was 6:45 on Friday night and Anastasia was currently getting ready to head over to Victor and Yuri's place. She had on black skinny jeans, black combat boots, and a tight maroon turtleneck sweater. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder as she threw on a light coat of makeup. Anastasia put her phone on speaker so she could pull her hair up into a ponytail. It was easier to pull up now that it had grown out a couple of inches. It was getting closer to the length she used to keep it.

"He called yesterday, dear, but I still wanted to catch up with you," her mother's voice filled her room. "He said something about you seeing Yakov and Victor again."

"Yup."

"I remember how much you used to gush about him when you would come home from the rink," her mother laughed.

"I do not remember that at all," Anastasia said as she added a few golden rings to accent her outfit. She stepped back and examined herself in the full-length mirror. Why was she even bothering to look nice tonight? No one would care.

"Oh you did! You used to go on and on about how much you wanted to marry him and skate together," her mother continued.

"Okay if you ever meet Victor, I would ask you to please never repeat what you are telling me right now." Anastasia picked her phone back up and took it off speaker, pressing it to her ear.

"And what's this he told me about you helping to coach little Yuri?"

"Mom, he's not so little anymore. He's grown up like I have." She jogged down the stairs to the door and searched for where she had thrown her coat.

"So you have." There was a pause and Anastasia thought for a moment they may have lost connection. She had no idea what country her parents were even in at this point. "He's gotten very handsome hasn't he?"

"Alright, now is where I hang up on you."

"Love you, dear!"

"Talk to you soon, bear!"

"Bye, guys." She hung up her phone and slid it in her back pocket. She threw her coat on and grabbed her bag before heading out the door. She took her time walking so she wouldn't end up being alone with Yuri and Victor. She arrived at their door right at 7 and rang the bell. Her arm had barely fallen back to her side when the door swung open and Victor's smiling face greeted her.

"Good evening, Tasia!" He wrapped her in a tight hug and kissed her cheek. "You look lovely. Come in." He ushered her through the door and helped her out of her coat. "Yurio isn't here yet, but that is no surprise."

"Can I ask you why you call him Yurio?" she asked as he took her arm and brought her further into his home.

"Well there is Japanese Yuri and Russian Yuri. It gets much too confusing when you have two people with the same name so that is the nickname Yuri's sister gave him years back. It just stuck."

"He doesn't seem to like it very much."

"Anastasia!" Yuri had a towel over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up. "Dinner should be done in just a few minutes."

"Can I do anything? Help you finish it or set the table?"

"Oh, no! It's fine just make yourself at home," he insisted. Anastasia had decided she really like Yuri. He was incredibly comforting to be around and seemed to genuinely care about how others felt. Victor was bustling from the kitchen to what Anastasia assumed was their dining room. She leaned up against the counter and watched Yuri work.

"So what exactly are you feeding me?"

"It is a recipe my family makes back home. I used to eat it after I won competitions. When Victor first came to Japan to be my coach, he tried it and loved it too." Anastasia remembered how tense it had been right after Victor left, but chose to focus on her skating rather than worry over someone else's career. "Yurio came to Japan to try and convince Victor to come back with him and the pork cutlet bowl won him over too." She also remembered how pissed Yakov had been when Yurio snuck off to Japan.

"It smells amazing," she told him honestly. "I don't think I've ever had Japanese food before," she admitted.

"This is the perfect introduction to it," Yuri told her with a wink and a smile. She ducked her head down to hide the flush that was threatening to creep up her cheeks. Surrounding herself with attractive men became difficult when they were so damn charming.

"I'll have to return that favor one day. My mother has an old recipe for stroganoff that had been passed down for years. I do not make it as well as she does, but perhaps I could give it a try," she offered.

"I'd love to try it." Anastasia matched Yuri's genuine smile and started to feel more at ease. While they stood in the kitchen, a fluffy, black face peered around the corner. Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared and Anastasia even wondered if she had just imagined it. All of the sudden, a black poodle came bounding into the kitchen. It skidded across the tile floor and bumped into Yuri who just looked down and smiled. "This is Pushok. Give him a little scratch behind the ears and he'll love you forever. Anastasia leaned over and did as instructed. Pushok excitedly wagged his tale and barked at her.

As he was finishing up, the doorbell rang. "Can you get that?" he asked her, tossing the towel on the counter. She nodded and started back towards the front door, Pushok at her feet. Pulling it open, she was met with the sight of Yurio. He had his black hood up and his hands shoved in his pockets. Anastasia stepped to the side to allow him to come in. He did and immediately turned to the right, entering the sitting room. He flopped onto the couch, hand still in his jacket. It was obvious he had spent quite a bit of time here. Pushok began to lap at his face as Yurio pushed him away grumbling complaints.

"Yurio, there you are! Perfect timing; dinner's ready." Victor gracefully swept into the room. He took the crook of Yurio's arm, yanking him from the couch before gently taking Anastasia by the hand. He pulled them both into the dining room where Yuri and the food were waiting. Victor let them go and went to sit next to Yuri, placing a kiss on his temple. Anastasia pulled out the chair across from Victor as Yurio dropped in the seat next to her.

"Tell me what you think," Yuri said expectantly as the other two began to eat. Anastasia put a forkful in her mouth and promptly covered it.

"Ohmigod," she managed to mumble through the mouthful. "Ohmigod," she repeated, looking at Yuri. "This is freaking amazing." He laughed in response. They continued the meal and three of them participated in conversation while one sulked. Victor had opened a bottle of wine at the beginning of dinner which had promptly been drunk. Once the food had been finished, Yurio stood and shoved his hands back into the jacket he had kept on.

"I'm leaving now."

"C'mon, Yurio. Stay for a while longer."

"It has been a long week," Yurio told his coach, heading for the door. It shut behind him before the other three had a chance to call out goodbyes. The three remaining moved to the sitting room. Victor brought out a bottle of vodka at that point. Yuri refused any as he wasn't fond of the taste, but the two Russians weren't shy to start on it.

"You already drank most of the wine and now you're going to add vodka to the mix. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Please," Victor told his fiancé. "Russians can hold their alcohol."

Three-quarters of the bottle later, Victor and Anastasia were in the center of the room choreographing skating routines to popular pop tunes. Yuri sat on the couch, very much sober, watching with great amusement. Anastasia's boots had been sloppily abandoned and in favor for her mismatched socks. Pushok ran around their feet merrily, licking at their hands.

"And then here," Victor said, throwing his arms out in a dramatic fashion. "A lift!" He wrapped his arms around Anastasia's waist and lifted her a couple inches off the ground. He started to spin and Anastasia let out a shriek before succumbing to her laughter. She gripped him, fearing he might drop her in his drunken state, but he didn't. He did, however, lose his balance, sending them both toppling onto the carpet beneath them. They both broke out into laughter and Victor sloppily grabbed the almost empty vodka bottle. He put it to his lips and took a sip. Anastasia, whose limbs were entangled with Victor's, grabbed the bottle from him and downed the rest. When she took the bottle from her lips, she coughed and let the bottle fall to the floor. She brushed her hair, which had fallen from the ponytail, out of her face.

"You're cute when you're drunk...and not drunk...and all the time." Anastasia ran her fingers through Victor's messy hair.

"So are you," Victor gushed. He reached the toy with the ends of her hair. "But I miss your hair." It was a sentiment he never ceased to express. "Your pretty, pretty hair." Yuri watched the two of them as they sat nearly on top of each other. Their speech was almost too slurred to comprehend.

About fifteen minutes later, the two of them passed out onto a mountain of pillows they had put together on the floor. Victor had Anastasia tucked into his side and his arm wrapped around her. One of her arms was draped over his chest. Yuri rolled his eyes and bit back a smile. Drunk Victor on his own could be quite the handful, but the two of them were an absolute train wreck. Yuri imagined trying to drag them both home from a club in this state would be an absolute nightmare. He grabbed a blanket from the closet in the hall and tossed it over the pair. He turned to head upstairs to sleep in an actual bed, but stopped. 'Should I?' he thought, glancing back over at the two. Against his better judgement, he pulled out his phone and snapped picture of the two of them. He smiled fondly at the picture. If Anastasia still had her light hair, they would almost look like siblings. Yuri couldn't resist uploading the picture on Instagram. The two of them were just too cute. Most of what he uploaded were pictures of Victor anyway. He pondered over what the caption should be as he got into bed.

Yurio was alone at home, his television on again to fill the silence. He had left early knowing the night was just going to end with Victor being drunk and touchy-feely with everyone and he did not want to be a part of that. He figured Anastasia would leave not long after he did and Yuri would be left to corral Victor. He rose from his seat on the couch and flipped off the T.V. Potya followed him into his bedroom and waited while he changed from his jeans into a pair of sweat pants. He pulled off the shirt he had on earlier and tossed it in the corner. He didn't bother putting on a new one before crawling under the covers. The cat jumped up after him and curled up on his stomach. Yurio propped an arm behind his head and opened up Instagram to scroll as he drifted off to sleep – a nightly habit.

The first picture that popped up was one uploaded by Yuri. Why did he even follow that idiot anyway? He was going to skip past it when a flash of red caught his eye. There was a red-head he knew that had been at that home this evening. He scrolled back up and saw Victor and Anastasia passed out. Clearly she had not gone home right after he did. The two of them looked so peaceful and incredibly less obnoxious when they were asleep. His eyes drifted down to the caption which said: "Whoever said Russians can hold their alcohol was very wrong." He glanced briefly at the comments and wished he hadn't. It was filled with skating fans absolutely flipping out.

'Who the hell is that?'

'Who's little red?'

'That chick seems familiar but idk'

'Why do I feel like I know her...'

'Ohmigodohmigodohmigodohmigod'

'Holy crap is that who I think it is?!'

'Do my eyes deceive me or is that Anastasia Petrov?'

'I HAVE BEEN WAITING OVER TWO YEARS FOR THIS GIRL TO RESURFACE'

'brb crying'

'There is a God!'

'What the hell did she do to her hair?'

'Without the blonde hair I almost didn't recognize her but that is 100% Anastasia'

'Pinch me I must be dreaming'

'2 of the most gorgeous Russian figure skaters to ever grace earth'

'honestly tho where the frick has she been?!'

"Welcome back from the world of anonymity, Anastasia," Yurio muttered to himself as he turned off his phone.

When Anastasia woke up, she had a dull ache in the back of her head. 'I definitely drank last night,' she thought to herself. Her stomach rumbled; she usually woke up hungry after a night of drinking. The next thing she noticed is that she wasn't alone - there were a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and a face buried in her neck. The body was warm, but a bit suffocating. She opened her eyes and immediately shut them. The curtains hadn't been drawn and now the morning sun was shining into the room. She blinked a couple of times to adjust and tilted her head, trying to see who had an iron grip on her. Anastasia managed to glimpse familiar silver hair. 'Poor Yuri had to deal with both of us drunk last night.' She attempted to remove herself from Victor's arms, but he only squeezed tighter.

"Oh god, Victor," she gasped. "Let me go you idiot." She tried to elbow him hoping it would wake him up, but he was pressed too closely for her to hit him. She groaned and reached for her phone which was lying on the carpet a few feet away. Even through all her shifting and jostling to get her phone and get somewhat comfortable, Victor stayed fast asleep. "You are like a little koala bear," she muttered to him even though she knew he wouldn't hear. She chuckled when she heard a small snore come from the man. She would continue to let him sleep for now. It's not like she could wake him up if she wanted to anyway. She powered her phone on and was immediately bombarded with notifications in the form of texts, voicemails, and Instagram alerts. "What the hell?" She opened the voicemails first and saw one from her mom and Yakov. Halfway through her mom's message, Anastasia realized it was just about their trip and she pulled up the one from Yakov instead. It was very rushed and confusing and she couldn't process all that information this early in the morning with a slight hangover. He kept saying something about a 'picture' and 'interviews.' "What picture?" she muttered, opening the Instagram app. That's when she saw it.

"What the hell?!" she screamed, sitting up with a start. Victor's grip on her was broken and he was woken up by her scream which echoed through the house. Her shout was followed by a string of profanities in Russian. Anastasia stood up as quickly as she could, sending the blanket flying.

"What is it, Tasia?" Victor asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. Pushok ran into the room and circled the two happily, unaware of the girl's distress. Yuri rushed into the room moments afterward.

"What happened? Is everyone okay?"

"No! Everyone is not _okay_ ," she spat back at him. She shoved her phone in his face. "What the hell is this?" she demanded. On her screen was the picture of her and Victor that Yuri had posted the night before.

"Oh," Yuri squeaked out. Victor scrambled to his feet to stand next to his fiancé and see what the commotion was about. He took the phone form Anastasia to get a better look.

"Awww! We're adorable!" he gushed, smiling widely. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is," Anastasia started, venom still apparent in her voice, "I have lived the past two years in the wonderful bliss of anonymity. I left the skating world and people left me alone. I dyed and cut my hair, I traveled out of the country for a few months, I left it all behind me. Now people know where I am and what I look like now."

"I still do not see the problem, Tasia."

"The problem is I don't want that anymore." She sunk down onto the couch and placed her head in her hands. "I don't want people asking me why I left and what my plans are now. I left for a reason and I don't need all of that coming up again."

"I'm so sorry, Anya." Yuri sat next to the girl and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest. "I'll take the picture down right away."

"It doesn't matter now. The rumors will only get worse if you do." Anastasia stood up took her phone back from Victor. "I'm sorry. I guess I overreacted a little. My return to the world was due to happen soon. Especially now that I am helping to coach Yuri." she began to pull her boots on her feet and tie her hair up in a messy bun.

"Tasia," Victor started. "Do you mind if I ask why you left?" Anastasia paused in her search for her purse.

"Another time, Victor." She found what she was looking for and made her way to the door. "Thank you for last night; I had a wonderful time. I will see you both at the rink tomorrow." And with that, she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6 – Resurfaced

**Enjoy! :)**

When her alarm went off the next morning, Anastasia begrudgingly crawled out of bed and got ready. She was not looking forward to today now that she had come back from the metaphorical dead. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her bag and a travel mug of coffee before braving the chilly outdoors. She walked quickly to the rink and kept her head down. Today she had pulled a dark beanie over her bright, red hair to avoid recognition now that the world had seen her new look. Anastasia rushed to the back once she arrived at the rink and kept a low profile throughout the day.

"My little baby is famous again!" Anastasia had just finished private coaching when a patronizing shout tore her attention away from her phone. She saw Lydia and Mikey at the top of the steps of the rink.

"Lydia? Mikey does not have coaching today." Anastasia grabbed her bag and hopped up the stairs to speak with them.

"No, he doesn't," Lydia clarified. "He likes to come and practice every day he doesn't have coaching though. He is determined to make you proud." Anastasia smiled down at her student. His drive would take him far in life. "But I wanted to come see you and ask 'What the hell?!'"

"Aunt Lydia!" Mikey gasped.

"Sorry," she apologized. "What the heck, Anastasia?"

"I can only assume you're referring to the infamous Instagram post that has brought me back to life?"

"Quite the comeback."

"Don't give me that crap, Lydia. I had no idea that would happen when I went over to their place for dinner the other night. If I'd had a say in it, that picture wouldn't have ever been posted. Unfortunately, it was too late by the time I saw it."

"I thought it was a cute picture," Lydia said with a shrug. "Just not how I thought you'd want to resurface."

"You're not wrong. I didn't want to resurface. I was perfectly happy with the ways things were. So I'm trying to keep a low profile for the next few days in the hopes people will chill."

"Not a bad idea. If you need a place to hide out for a bit, you know who to call. Mikey would be thrilled to have his coach hang out with him," Lydia offered.

"Thanks, Lydia." Anastasia smiled and watched the two of them leave before heading down the hallway to her other coaching gig. When she entered, she noticed a surprisingly lack of actual skating going on. It was also nearly empty, besides a lanky blonde who was stretched out on a bench. He had one leg crossed over the other and was rolling his ankle in circles while staring intently at his phone. "Where are the others?" Anastasia asked as she descended the stairs to join him.

"Not here," Yurio answered without looking up from his phone.

"Yeah, I can see that." Anastasia rolled her eyes and dropped her bag next to her feet. "Is it just you and me today?" she asked. He grunted in response. "I suppose that was a yes?" She received no response this time. "Well then, get up and let's get to work." She knocked his supporting leg on the bench which nearly sent him rolling off of it.

"Watch it!" he growled. Anastasia waited as he took his own sweet time lacing up his skates and sliding his hoodie off. By the time he finally set foot on the ice, Anastasia found herself already annoyed at his antics. Yurio skated a couple of lazy figure eights before starting on some jumps. Anastasia offered little corrections here and there as she watched him skate. He really was one of the most talented and entrancing skaters she had ever seen.

"Where is everyone else today?" she asked as she leaned up against the barrier and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Yakov left once we were finished choreographing the routine and Victor had other plans today," he explained bluntly.

"And you waited for me?"

"So?" Yurio stopped what he was working on and turned to her with an accusatory look in his eyes.

"Nothing!" she said quickly, hiding the smile that was growing on her face. Perhaps he tolerated her more than he let on.

"I saw pork cutlet bowl's picture." Anastasia was slightly surprised that he was speaking to her willingly. She was pretty sure she could count the number of words he had said to her in the last few weeks on one hand.

"Can we please not talk about that?" She felt her face heating up at the thought of him seeing that picture and mocking her about it.

"I thought you'd leave after me."

"I did. Just a lot later than you. And after quite a bit of vodka."

"I would have stayed if I knew it was going to turn into _that_ kind of dinner party." Anastasia was very confused by Yurio's tone of voice but decided not to press the matter any further. She watched him run through his routine three more times before skating to the side to grab his water bottle. "It's looking much better," she complimented as he leaned his back against the barrier. "Of course you're going to have to be careful once you get to the jumps in the second half of the pro-"

"Why don't you skate anymore?" Anastasia was not only surprised by his bluntness but by the question itself.

"What?" Sure it wasn't the most eloquent response, but she figured her confusion was warranted. She looked over at him and he was gazing at her with those inquisitive, green eyes from underneath his blonde bangs.

"Why did you stop skating?" he rephrasing, turning his body to face hers. Anastasia avoided his gaze and fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

"Personal reasons," she mumbled, hoping he wouldn't press the issue. She wasn't so lucky.

"Personal reasons? Is that all I'm going to get?" he demanded, inching closer to her.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, backing away. "It isn't any of your business, anyway," she shot back, a bit more confident.

"It isn't any of my business?"

"Exactly. So you should leave it be."

"I was only asking," Yurio spat defensively. "Can't I ask?"

"No!" Anastasia grabbed her bag and began to march up the stairs.

"I can't even ask?" he questioned indignantly. She heard a scrambling behind her and pretty soon Yurio had his skate guards on and was right on her tail. "And why can't I even ask?" he yelled, temper rising. He was always used to getting his way, especially when it came to women. He leapt in front of her and stared down at her. Even without his skates, he was taller than Anastasia; but now his frame towered over her. "I haven't even seen you skate since you started help coach me, which is odd considering how much you loved it and how often you won. All I'm asking is why you stopped doing something you were so passionate about."

"Last time I checked, we weren't friends," Anastasia hissed. There was a a good thirty seconds of strained silence as the two glared at each other. She pushed past him and opened the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said over her shoulder before letting the door slam behind her.

The next few days were incredibly tense. Yurio and Anastasia would not address each other directly or even look at each other. Any time Anastasia needed to say something to Yurio, she would tell Victor or Yakov and have them relay the message. The others picked up on the awkwardness and watched themselves around the sulking skaters. They couldn't figure out what had happened to make the two so hostile towards one another and didn't feel like asking in fear of the young skaters' tempers. After the first few days of avoiding each others, the fighting began. Every single little disagreement became a full fledged shouting match in which the two had to be pried apart by the coaches.

"Just like old times, eh?" Victor joked with Yakov after practice. The older man only rolled his eyes and rushed to catch up with Anastasia as she stormed out of the rink.

"What the hell has been going on this week, Anastasia?"

"I don't know what you are referring to." She wrapped her scarf around her neck and started to pull her gloves onto her fingers. Fall was ending and winter was approaching so the weather was getting even colder.

"Don't give me that. I've known you since you were five years old and even if I hadn't, I'd still be able to tell you were upset. In fact, anyone with ears would be able to tell. You and Yuri haven't stopped screaming at each other all week. I know the two of you don't usually get along, but this is getting ridiculous." Anastasia sighed and stopped.

"I know. I'm sorry for my behavior this week. It really has been unprofessional and probably annoying to deal with."

"You're telling me," he scoffed. Anastasia shot him a glare as they leisurely walked towards her house.

"Yuri asked me last week why I quit skating."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. Why would I tell him?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Yakov's question made Anastasia stop in her tracks.

"Well...because it isn't any of his business."

"Why not?" Yakov pressed. Anastasia opened and shut her mouth several times, grasping for an answer.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Anya, dear," Yakov started, "I know you have built up these walls around yourself and you do not like letting people in, but if anyone can relate to your life, it is us." Anastasia opened her mouth to interject, but Yakov kept talking. "I'm not saying you have to start telling everyone about the accident or anything like that, but perhaps you'll find their support comforting. Victor, Yuri, and Katsuki understand the life of ice skating and can sympathize with your injuries. They will not judge you for anything. Just something for you to think about. I will see you on Monday." Yakov left Anastasia to her thoughts.

Her walk home felt longer and colder than usual. Every step seemed to take all of her effort and she could feel an uncomfortable pressure in her lower back. She'd need to get that checked out pretty soon. Yakov's words tumbled around in her head and she weighed her options. The only thing she could think about was the worst case scenario if she decided to tell them and what would happen if the whole world found out. Anastasia was relieved when she arrived home, but the emptiness of the house was an unwelcome feeling that day. Perhaps Yakov did have a point.

Yurio got home late that night after going for a jog and grabbing dinner. Once he took a quick shower, he fastened a towel around his waist and flopped back on his bed, using an arm behind his head as support. He began his nightly routine of scrolling through Instagram. He was only a few posts in when something caught his eye. Yurio quickly read the picture's caption to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him: "Feeling like myself again." His eyes drifted back up to the picture which he now knew was 100% real. Anastasia's hair was as blonde as it used to be and the smile on her face was the first genuine one he'd seen on her since they reconnected. He couldn't help the small smirk that crept onto his face.

"I love it!" Victor gushed the next day. He was quick to nearly tackle Anastasia in a hug and run his fingers through her newly dyed hair. "I can't even tell you poisoned it with that awful hair color."

"That's because I stripped the red from my hair. Needless to say, my hair is rather damaged at this point, but I am happy with it. Why did you all hate the red anyway?"

"Reminded me of Mila." Victor and Anastasia turned to Yurio who was stretched out in a split on the floor while playing on his phone. "I hate that hag."

Pretty soon, the tension between Yurio and Anastasia seemed to have dissipated and they were back to barely speaking to each other. Even though Victor would prefer the two of them were actually friends, he wouldn't complain at the progress that had been made so far. As the weeks went by, the weather got colder, and the competitions got closer. One particularly chilly Sunday morning, Anastasia made her way to her weekly physical therapy appointment. She smiled at the receptionist as she entered the building and went straight for Gleb's office. When she opened the door, he was reading a book with his feet propped up on his desk and his glasses sliding down his nose. She slammed the door behind her to announce her entrance.

"Your flair for dramatics never ceases, does it?" Gleb drawled without glancing up from his book. Anastasia ignored his comment and flopped onto his couch with a groan. "You alright?" He looked up at the girl who had deflated into the cushions beneath her.

"I just feel achy today."

"Achy? Where exactly?"

"Lower back."

"Have you been on the ice a lot recently?" he asked rising from the chair.

"On and off, yeah."

"Flip over."

"What?"

"Flip over," Gleb repeated, rotating his finger in a circle to emphasize his point. "On your stomach."

"Why?" she questioned while complying. Instead of answering, Gleb started kneading her lower back. She let out a groan of pain followed by a small sigh of relief.

"Is this where all your pain has been collecting recently?"

"For the most part." Her voice was muffled by the pillow her face was buried in. "I guess I'm just putting a little pressure on it or something."

"It's more than a little pressure, Anya. Your muscles are spasming here." Anastasia could hear the concern in his tone as he stopped massing her back. "It's no wonder you've been in so much pain. You don't need to be skating at all for a while if you can help it."

"That's kind of my job, genius."

"You don't always have to be on the ice," Gleb argued back. "And I don't want you going on it at all this week. Next Sunday, I'll take another assessment and see if you're ready to get back on. For now..." Gleb gave her a stern look which told Anastasia he was being very serious and she would regret even thinking about skating over the next week.

"I'm not getting worse, am I?" Anastasia sat up on the couch and bit her lip. She had come so far in the healing process and the last thing she wanted to do was screw that up. Although, she already dealt with a fair amount of pain on a daily basis so she wasn't sure how much worse she could make it.

"Oh no!" Gleb assured her quickly. "We're not going backwards. Remember, you were in a _major_ accident, Anya. Pain from time to time is completely normal." The two spent the rest of her appointment catching up on what had been going on the previous week, including Anastasia's recent hair change.

"I only met you once your hair was red. I do think your natural color suits you better," he said with a warm smile.

"Everyone else seems to agree with those sentiments. All of the Instagram followers, my parents, Victor, Yuri..."

"Oh, Yuri likes it better blonde?"

"Yeah..." Anastasia said hesitantly.

"I didn't figure he would've noticed your hair."

"I didn't either honestly."

"But he does care."

"He does."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"Nothing," he hummed.

"Why are you asking?"

"No reason." The two fell into silence for a few moments. Gleb fiddled with papers on his desk as Anastasia glared at him. She opened her mouth to ask him what he was going on about when he spoke up.

"Do you care that he cares?"

"What the hell, Gleb?"

"I'm just asking!" he said defensively, holding his hands up, but smirking at the same time.

"You're just prodding into something that isn't any of your business," she growled. She stood from the couch and started gathering her stuff. "I have to go coach now."

"Don't be cross with me, Anya dear." Gleb stood too. "I'm only kidding with you."

"I know," she replied shortly

"Doesn't sound like you know." Anastasia rolled her eyes and let out a huff. She shuffled over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest.

"I know you're kidding. I'm not cross with you, I'm just..." She sighed.

"I know, kid." Gleb rested his chin on top of her head and squeezed her tightly. "You're tired, you're stressed, you're in pain. The last thing you want is me giving you a hard time about something that's probably been bothering you."

"It hasn't been bothering me," she mumbled, stepping back and picking her jacket up off the desk.

"Of course it hasn't." He ruffled her hair, sending strands flying loose from her ponytail. Anastasia took the time to yell at him before leaving for the rink. When she got there, she found Yakov and Yurio in the middle of a shouting match about his program. She rolled her eyes and found Yuri sitting on a bench, typing away on his computer. She sat next to him and gave him the best smile she could muster under the circumstances.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously after he returned the smile, his being much more legitimate than hers.

"I'm working on bios for all the skaters from around the world this year."

"For research purposes?"

"Actually no. I work as a sports reporter so this is an assignment. These write-ups will be posted on our website so people can easily learn about any of the skaters."

"Impressive," she complimented. They sat in a comfortable silence for another few minutes as she watched him type up a backstory on a rookie from Australia. Victor slid onto the bench on the other side of Yuri, watching the fight with an amused smirk on his face. "What are they fighting about today?" she asked the two of them.

"Yurio wants to put most of his jumps in the second half of both his programs this season," Yuri explained.

"How is that different from any other season? He always argues for what he wants and even if Yakov disagrees, he does it anyway." Anastasia had plenty of experience watching Yurio directly defy his coach during competition.

"True. The issue is the order and level of difficulty of the jumps in combination with the step sequences. I think Yakov is mainly concerned with his stamina," Yuri clarified, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Please," Anastasia snorted. "There's nothing wrong with his stamina."

"Oh?" Victor perked up and spoke for the first time that afternoon. "Nothing wrong with Yurio's stamina?"

"Yeah...that's what I _just_ said, Victor."

"So you'd say his stamina is... _satisfactory_?" Yuri shot his fiancé a look to cut it out, which was ignored.

"I mean more than satisfactory. You've seen everything he's able to do." Anastasia had not caught on to Victor's suggestive tone of voice and had her eyes on her phone so she didn't see his wicked grin.

"Well...I haven't seen _everything_ he's capable of. That would seem inappropriate under the circumstances. I imagine you've uh...seen it all?" Yuri slammed his laptop shut and turned to face Victor with a stern look on his face.

"I...suppose..." Anastasia said slowly, curiously looking up at the two.

"You know, a lot of us always suspected something would happen eventually between the two of you. With all that... _tension_ floating about."

"Oh god!" Anastasia realized what Victor had really been talking about the last few minutes. "You're an idiot." She stood up and marched over to the barrier by the ice to get away from Victor.

"I was only joking, Tasia!" he called after her.

"Unbelievable," Yuri muttered, reopening his laptop to continue working.

"I was just having a bit of fun!" Victor insisted. He got a smack on the arm from Yuri as response.

"What is Yuri's theme for this season?" It was a few days later and Anastasia was shuffling through a stack of Yurio's CDs trying to organize the music he had used in the past and the music he needed for his programs' this year. He had let all his music pile up at the rink over the years and when Yakov asked him for a copies of the music he needed for his current programs so he could copy them digitally, he had dumped the heap in Yakov's arms and left. Anastasia had offered to stay behind and work out the technical side of the programs with Yakov.

"I wouldn't know. He has been rather ambiguous about it. To be honest, I don't think he has one chosen yet."

"Well that's not good," Anastasia paused her work and looked up at her former coach. "I assume you've tried talking to him about it?"

"I've talked to him as much as he'll let me talk to him."

"Which means you yelling as Yuri ignores you." Yakov shot her a look and she smiled before returning her attention to the music. "So this is the music for his short program." Anastasia handed Yakov one of the CDs. "But which is his free skate music?" Most of the disks were unlabeled which made figuring out which was which very difficult. Yakov leaned over and plucked out the correct one. "What am I supposed to do with the rest of these?"

"I don't want them here taking up space."

"Does Yuri want them then?"

"I doubt it. He left them here so that's a pretty good indication he doesn't care about what happens to them." Yakov pocketed the music he needed and headed towards the exit.

"Then what should I do with them?" Yakov shrugged.

"Throw them away, keep them, I don't know. Do whatever you'd like. Thank you for your help. I will see you in the morning."

When she got home, Anastasia dumped the pile of music she took from the rink on a counter. She decided she just couldn't bear to throw away music, even if it wasn't hers. Music from past performances were memories and she for one, liked to keep memories like that. Perhaps one day when Yuri was in a better mood, or a good mood at all, she'd offer him the disks man. If he absolutely didn't want them, maybe she'd throw them out at that point. After taking a shower and changing into comfier clothes, Anastasia curled up in her bed with her phone and Josie. She scrolled through her Instagram comments and all of the positive feedback brought a smile to her face. She snapped a quick selfie of her and Josie all snuggled up. "Thanks for all the love and support you've been sending my way. I love each and every one of you so very much," she typed. Anastasia quickly proofread the message to make sure she didn't misspell everything before posting the picture. She yawned and exited the app, intending to go to bed. Before she set her phone down however, Anastasia's curiosity led her to YouTube. Seeing all of Yuri's music made her want to watch some of his old routines for some reason. 'It is for nostalgia purposes,' she told herself. She initially pulled up routines from Yuri's junior days. She almost laughed at how little he looked out on the ice all by himself. From there, she gradually worked her way through the years until she was watching recent programs - ones she hadn't seen because she went off the ice skating grid. She eventually succumbed to sleep as the videos continued to play in the background.


End file.
